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“Well, I would hope so,” Mrs. Oliver sniffed.
Once Mrs. Oliver had stalked from the room, Spruce shot Grace a look of fury. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. We need that kid on the football team next year or we’re risking our state ranking. Write the letter and give him a passing grade.”
“No.” Her spine stiffened. “First, I will not admit guilt when I did nothing wrong. Second, I certainly won’t agree never to teach Aphra Behn’s work again. Third, Todd has turned in less than twenty percent of his assignments all year. He’s disrespectful, entitled, and a bully. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve offered to—”
“Miss Berry.” Spruce’s voice cut through her diatribe like a knife. “Todd Oliver is the starting quarterback. Hewillqualify for the team in the fall. And you will do whatever it takes to ensure that happens. Am I clear?”
Grace pressed her lips together and didn’t respond.
Spruce frowned. “You want to teach summer school, don’t you?”
Her stomach dropped. “You know I do.”
“Then you’d better start cooperating,” Spruce snapped. “I’m getting tired of you pushing a curriculum of female writers no one has ever heard of.”
“That’s exactly the reason they need to be included. Aphra Behn was a highly successful Restoration-era writer, but she’s been marginalized over the years. By studying her work, students will get a much more comprehensive picture of literary history.”
Spruce held up his hand. “Not interested. You were hired to teach Shakespeare. Do your job.”
“I teach Shakespeare all the time! We’re doing a vocabulary lesson right now. But it’s equally important to talk about his work in relation to writers whom history has often excluded.”
“History hasexcludedwriters like that Behn woman for obvious reasons.” Spruce strode to the door. “Stick to the traditional curriculum, Miss Berry. I guarantee you don’t want to be forced to defend yourself to the school board against the charge of corrupting a student. Not only will you lose your job, you’ll never teach anywhere again.”
He slammed out of the room. Grace sank down at her desk and put her head in her hands. It wasn’t the first time she’d struggled with an unmotivated student or an unreasonable parent, but Spruce had a point.
Corrupting a student.Even a rumor about that could seriously tarnish both her reputation and her relationship with other students.
At twenty-eight, she’d earned several “Outstanding Teacher” and “Teacher of the Year” awards—though she was less concerned with the accolades than she was with how her students viewed her. She’d never get over having them look at her with uncertainty or doubt if they heard about her “corrupting” curriculum.
And, for the first time in her career, shehadto teach summer school. As much as she loved teaching, she’d always looked forward to the freedom of summer break when she could do all the things she didn’t have time for during the year—reading, cooking, hiking. She also tried to help her father as much as possible…without letting him know she was trying to help him.
But this summer, between Ray Berry’s financial strain and an avalanche of her own unexpected expenses, she needed to work. Spruce knew it, too.
What a crappy way to end the week.
Taking a breath, Grace gathered up her belongings. She’d dealt with challenges before, and she’d do it again—in a way that didn’t compromise herself or her own ethics.
She left her classroom, catching sight of Spruce glowering at her from near the main office. Grace usually prided herself on finding at least one thing to like about people, no matter how insufferable they were, but if Spruce had any likable qualities, he kept them well hidden. And truth be told, she wasn’t all that interested in finding them either.
After becoming the Bliss Cove High principal two years ago, Hank Spruce had steamrolled numerous changes that favored sports and STEM classes rather than the arts and humanities. He’d cut the drama club funding and removed Grace from the Outreach Committee after she’d advocated partnering her Literature and Poetry classes with students from rural schools.
He’d also written several letters reprimanding her “poor communication” skills and remarked on her evaluations that she displayed a tendency for “insubordination” due in part to her teaching of marginalized writers.
Grace couldn’t help being uneasy about how the principal’s remarks would affect her career, but she refused to let herself be bullied. And, as she frequently reminded herself, despite whatever politics and irritations the administration or parents threw at her, nothing could take away her love for being in the classroom with her students. At times like this, she had to remember that.
She hurried through the rain to the parking lot. After coaxing her ancient car to life, she drove to her tiny, one-bedroom cottage located in a modest neighborhood near the harbor.
She’d known when she bought the place four years ago that an old house would have occasional problems, but she hadn’t expected multiple problems at the same time.
In the past few months, the house had developed water pipe issues, a leaky roof, and mildew around the windows. She could only hope her extra income from summer school would cover the repair costs.
She dropped her book bag on the worn sofa and went to the screened-in back porch to see if any of the food in the cat bowl had been eaten. Over a week ago, she’d been watering the flowers in the backyard, and she hadn’t fully closed the screen door. A police siren had screeched past, spooking her cat. Viola had shot out the door and disappeared in a streak of black-and-white fur.
Grace had run after her and looked everywhere, but the cat was nowhere to be found. Over the past ten days, she’d put up fliers, knocked on doors, asked her neighbors, and taken out an announcement inThe Bliss Cove Gazette, but so far she had no leads. She’d been keeping the screen door open and a full bowl of food and water on the porch in the hopes that Viola would find her way back.
The dish was still full. Grace sighed. She missed the cat even more acutely than usual. Last summer she’d been unable to resist adopting Viola from Meow and Then, the local cat café and adoption center.
Over the difficulties of the past year, Viola had become a major source of companionship and comfort. No matter how bad a day Grace had had, she could always count on Viola to curl up at her side and soothe her with a low, rumbling purr.
